


Pretzels: The Season 3 Job

by AthenaMay24



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, One drabble for each episode, Pretzels, Season 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-01 14:39:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12707019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaMay24/pseuds/AthenaMay24
Summary: A series of drabbles or short one-shots for each episode of season 3, focused on the developing relationship between Parker and Hardison.





	1. The Jailhouse Job

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of extra moments between or about Parker and Hardison that each correspond to an episode of season 3. This one starts pre-season (between 2 and 3) and goes all the way through to after the end of the episode. Hope you enjoy!

Things—well, things changed after Nate made the deal with Sterling to save them. Their slate had been wiped clean(ish), all but Nate’s, and they kept taking jobs, kept helping people. Sophie ran the jobs now, since Nate was in prison, but that wasn’t all that was different.

Parker and Hardison had gotten closer since Nate’s arrest. They’d been friends, but now they were—more? Not in any substantial way, not really, and Parker wasn’t even sure if Hardison noticed. It was entirely possible that the change that she felt was all her, all in her head.

She was the one that was different.

Maybe.

Hardison was angry at Nate for giving himself up, but not in the way that Eliot was—or the way that Parker was, either.

Parker didn’t blame Nate for sacrificing himself for them, just like she didn’t blame Sophie for having Tara spy on them the whole time she was gone.

You do whatever it takes for your family, no matter what.

Too bad Hardison didn’t look at it that way.

“Could really use Nate on this one,” Parker muttered, adjusting her stupid pink dress, the same one as that embassy gala when they’d saved Maggie.

Hardison snorted, shaking his head. “Nate? Nuh-uh. Who needs him? I say we’re doing just fine without him.” He typed away at his computer in the back of brand-new Lucille 2, not looking at Parker.

Parker frowned, chewing her lip. “What—Why?”

Hardison looked up, and his fingers stopped their movements.

“Why haven’t you forgiven Nate?” Parker wasn’t trying to accuse him of anything, or tell him that he should or shouldn’t do this or the other, she was simply curious about Hardison’s holdover towards their mastermind-turned-fall-guy.

Hardison understood—at least, it seemed like he did. He took a minute to respond, eventually shrugging and saying, “It hurt. He’s always planning and-and scheming and all that, bur this time was different. It was about _us_ —about the team, and he should’ve shared.”

Parker nodded slowly. “Yeah, I get it.” She smiled a little, “For the record, I only meant that we could use another person on the grift, so I wouldn’t have to wear this stupid dress.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Hardison said, grinning, “But I’d much rather it be you in the dress than Nate. Pink’s not really his color.”

Parker laughed, not failing to notice that Hardison looked her up and down as she climbed out of Lucille. But—for some reason—she didn’t really mind.

Guess that was just another way things were changing.

~o0o~

“Why am I looking away?”

He knew why. And he (probably) knew why she was doing it, too. That little smirk, he’d seen a lot of that lately. It wasn’t like Parker randomly stripping was anything new, he’d lost count of the number of times she’d changed in the back of Lucille without a thought to the fact that he was sitting right there next to her. And it wasn’t like he didn’t know things like her preferred scent (jasmine) or that she claimed to get all of her dresses from Sophie even though they weren’t the same size (those minidresses fit her _way_ too well to be simply borrowed from Sophie), but there was something different about it all now.

Now there were—dare he say it— _teasing_ glances when she shimmied out of her clothes in the van, and downright _devilish_ touches when she brushed up against him, or they—heaven forbid (but not really) had to play a couple on a job.

But, as Parker likes to point out, PDA can be the best misdirection.

(He tried not to think about that word choice, it made his head—heart—hurt too much.)

So, why was he looking away?

Because that’s how Nana raised him.

~o0o~

“You like it when we kiss?” Parker asked.

Hardison blinked, and shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable.

Parker didn’t care.

She wanted to know.

“That’s what you said,” she prompted, turning to look at him. He was driving Lucille back to Nate’s apartment. She was riding shotgun. He couldn’t escape.

“Uh, yeah—yeah, girl, I do,” Hardison swallowed, “But—”

“But what?”

“But . . .” Hardison drew out the word, but it was clear he didn’t really have anything to say.

“Why does there have to be a but?”

Hardison let out a breath, “I guess there doesn’t. If that’s okay?”

“Yeah.” Parker settled back into her seat, facing forward again, “It is.”

Hardison grinned, “All right, then.”


	2. The Reunion Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing moments from 3x02 The Reunion Job.

“Did you really get bullied in high school?”

Alec looked up. Parker was looking at him with those big blue innocent eyes. His first instinct was to lie. This was Parker, he really didn’t want her thinking about him as a scared little bully victim, but, also, this was _Parker_ and he couldn’t lie to her.

“Yeah.” He forced himself to shrug. “But it wasn’t ever too bad. I was with Nana by the time I got to high school, and I’d much rather deal with regular high school bullies than, well—”

“I get it.” Parker nodded, cutting him off before he could say _than what I’d faced in the system before Nana._

Alec swallowed, not sure he had anything else to say.

“Sometimes—sometimes I think I might’ve been a bully if I’d gone to high school.” Parker looked down, but she didn’t sound sad, simply contemplative.

“No,” Alec shook his head, “You would’ve stood up to them.”

~o0o~

“Look,” Sophie nodded towards the rafters behind Nate’s head. She pulled back from his arms slightly, smiling at whatever it was behind him.

On the next slow turn, Nate tore his eyes away from his beautiful dance partner to look where she’d indicated. “Is she—”

“Hanging from the ceiling? Yes, I think so.” Sophie bit back a satisfied smile (one that Nate was used to seeing whenever Parker and Hardison were concerned).

“To each their own,” Nate shrugged a little, wondering what Sophie would do if he tried to pull her closer.

“I think it’s sweet,” Sophie admonished, still trying to spy on their teammates.

“Yeah,” Nate was no longer thinking about the hacker and thief; his attention was concentrated wholly on the woman in front of him. He leaned a little closer. “Sweet.”

~o0o~

The song ended, and everyone cheered, breaking Hardison out of his trance. He stopped spinning Parker around, but he didn’t let go of her waist, not until she cleared her throat and released the hook on her harness, dropping lightly to the floor.

“Don’t want the line to get twisted from the—from the twirling,” Parker muttered, fiddling with her ropes.

“Yeah, of course.” Hardison took a step backwards, gave her some space.

After a minute, she looked up and met his eyes. “Thanks.”

Hardison blinked. “For what?”

Parker shrugged, looking down again. “That was—nice.”

Hardison broke into smile, but looked down, scuffing his shoe on the floor. “Well, hey, just because you didn’t go to high school doesn’t mean you should have to miss out on everything.”

Parker nodded and gave her rope a few calculated tugs so it fell in a coil between them. “Did you go to any other dances—you know, other than prom?”

Hardison bent to help her gather the rope. “Uh, no, not really.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t have a reason to, I guess.” Hardison shrugged, handing Parker his end of the rope.

Parker smiled. “Then I was your first high school dance, too.”

“Yeah,” Hardison chuckled, taking a chance and reaching out to touch her shoulder briefly. She let him. “I guess you were.”

They didn’t say anything else until they were safely in Lucille, and then it was only because someone had to tell Eliot to stop complaining.


	3. The Inside Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing Pardison/Pretzels moments from 3x03 The Inside Job.

Alec Hardison, with all his talk of being the best at what he does, with all his cocky confidence, all his quips and boasts, has always been terrified of letting down the people he cares about—of not being enough for them—of failing his family.

Panic, deep in his gut, and blood rushing in his ears, until he was dizzy.

“No, no, no, Hardison. For _Parker_ , can you crack it?”

A Steranko? No. If you’d asked him on his best day, at his highest point, given him unlimited prep, he still wouldn’t touch a Steranko with a ten-foot pole.

No way.

But—

“Yeah, I-I can—” he hesitated, not believing the words that were coming out of his mouth, “Even if I tried—just _tried_ —I can’t do it remote. I’d have to get in that building.”

“Okay,” Nate nodded, “So we get you in, you open the doors for Parker, she goes out.”

Hardison couldn’t believe he was agreeing to this. The others—the team—they always assumed that he could do—could hack—anything, and he appreciated the confidence, most of the time. But this? He couldn’t—there was no way—he’d only make it worse—get them all caught—he shouldn’t—

But—

Parker.

Parker needed him.

And that was really all that mattered, wasn’t it? Of course he’d do it for her.

Heaven help them both.

~o0o~

Parker didn’t know why she called Hardison. (Because he’d forgive her for doing an outside job? Because he’d understand why she needed to help Archie? Because he made her feel safe in a way that she couldn’t and didn’t want to explain?) It would’ve made more sense to call Archie or Nate, but his number—the number she knew by heart but barely dialed—that number was the one she found herself punching on the Wakefield company landline.

 “Hardison, listen, I screwed up. I’m downtown in a building, and I—”

“We are already here, mama.”

Somehow, she didn’t mind that.

(Didn’t mind what? That they were here? That he called her ‘mama’? Parker didn’t know what it was that she didn’t mind, except she expected to be upset, but wasn’t.)

“You are? All of you?” Parker looked around, and knew everything was going to be okay.

She wasn’t alone anymore.

~o0o~

Hardison hugged her. When they made it to the executive office, as Eliot and Nate were helping Sophie out the broken window onto the stolen window cleaning platform, Hardison grabbed her, pulled her into a sharp hug, and released her in the same second, moving to the window and not saying a word about it.

It was— _weird_.

But she didn’t hate it.

~o0o~

Parker stood in the harsh circle of light in the center of her warehouse, frowning.

She got it—understood that they’d had to come here to find and help her—but people, even the team, in her space made her uneasy. No one was supposed to see this.

Someone—Sophie? Hardison?—had touched Bunny. Definitely _not_ okay.

They’d gone through the blueprints and notes, which she guessed was allowed, since they needed that, but did they need to touch everything else?

Parker sighed and started loading her tools into their cases. She could pack up most of her necessities and move into a new place relatively easy. She wouldn’t even have to spend another night here.

(It would take longer to transfer the piles and piles of stolen jewels and art that were heaped around the edges of the space, but this wasn’t about her stuff, it was about _her_ and Bunny and her cereal and her tools, and they needed to go somewhere no one else knew about.)

Parker had almost everything packed and was prepared to make her first run to the new place when someone knocked on her warehouse door.

Parker froze, and then relaxed, prepared to ignore it. Sometimes people come to the door with business for the fake owner of the warehouse and she always let them knock until they went away.

This guy did not want to go away.

Parker didn’t have a security system, but she did have a camera, which she pulled up after eight minutes of incessant (but relatively calm) knocking.

It was Hardison.

“ _What_?” Parker yanked the door open, eyes flashing, blocking the doorway with her body, even though it didn’t matter because Hardison had already been inside.

Hardison blinked, and took a step backward, clearly not expecting her to snap at him. “So-sorry, I just—”

“You just what?” Parker raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest.

Just because he knew where her warehouse was didn’t give him the right to show up!

“Uh,” Hardison swallowed, and looked away, “Never mind. I—sorry.” He turned to leave, and was halfway across the parking lot before Parker could process what was happening.

“Wait!”

He stopped.

Parker bit her lip, staring at the spot between Hardison’s shoulder blades. “Tell me why you’re here.” This was a question, soft, not thrown in his face like before. She needed to know the answer, so she added, “Please?”

Hardison slowly turned back around, but he stayed where he was. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Parker hadn’t even realized she’d been tensed up on her tiptoes, but she dropped back down flat on the floor and her shoulders relaxed. “You can come in—if you want.”

Hardison smiled, but it was contained, like he didn’t want to scare her by smiling too widely.

Parker thought that it was too late to worry about scaring her.

Hardison followed her inside.

~o0o~

Hardison didn’t know what he was doing—no earthly clue. What the hell made him think that it was a good idea to show up at Parker’s door for the first time ever, especially after a day like she’d had?

He opened his mouth to say something, to apologize again, anything, but when he got to the center of her warehouse, it all flew out of his head.

“You’re moving?”

Parker glared at him from under her bangs, and it wasn’t hard to tell that she considered it his fault. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Hardison could have asked why, but he didn’t need to. He understood.

Parker looked down at her bed, where most of her belongings were packed and stacked.

“It doesn’t matter, you know,” Hardison said after a minute.

Parker looked up.

“It doesn’t matter that we know where you live.”

“Yeah.” Parker frowned. “It does.”

Hardison shrugged. “Okay. But it doesn’t have to.”

Parker chewed on her lip, but she didn’t speak. She wasn’t sure she wanted him here anymore, but she wasn’t sure she wanted him to leave, either.

Hardison nodded slowly, “You know what, I’m sorry, this wasn’t right. It’s none of my business where you live. I—I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Parker watched him leave, and then looked back down at her bed.

Maybe she didn’t have to move _tonight_.

She’d give it one more day.


	4. The Scheherazade Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing Pretzels/Pardison Moments from 3x04 The Scherazade Job

“Hardison! Wait!” Parker hurried after him, her breath coming out in puffs in the cold Boston air.

Hardison rounded on her, drawing himself up, but at least he stopped (not that she couldn’t catch up to him, but this was better). “Did you know?”

“What?” Parker frowned, and shook her head impatiently. “No, of course not.”

Hardison squinted at her. “You were there helping him plan the whole time, and you had no idea he was conning me?”

“No,” Parker crossed her arms and gave another shake of her head. “I thought you could do it. I thought you _did_ do it.”

Hardison flinched and looked away.

Parker took a deep breath. “I mean—” she stepped closer to him, “I think you _can_ do it, because I’m pretty sure you can do anything you wanted to.”

Hardison rubbed his face. “That’s the thing, Parker. I-I was terrified to get up there in front of all those people, but you, and the team, were counting on me, and I thought—I thought that you wouldn’t have put it in the plan if you didn’t believe—didn’t _trust_ —that I could get the job done.” He let out a shaky breath. “And then I did it. And it-it was amazing.” He started to smile, but then shook his head like he was batting the thought away. “But it wasn’t real. And Nate wasn’t putting his trust in me, he was putting his trust in-in himself and his ‘hypnotism skills.’” Those last two words came out sarcastically, accompanied by a fake-impressed little wave of his fingers.

Parker waited to make sure he was done, and then said, “Hypnotism can’t make you do anything you can’t or don’t want to do. It’s not magic, it’s suggestion.”

Hardison shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m over it.”

Parker frowned. “I’m not. Nate shouldn’t have told you he used hypnotism. He didn’t need to do that, even if he was trying to make a point about—”

“Parker, Parker, girl,” Hardison interrupted, smiling a little, “It doesn’t matter. It’s fine.”

Parker didn’t look convinced, but she let the matter drop.

Hardison smiled, and started walking slowly down the street. Parker followed, even though her warehouse was in the opposite direction.

“Anything I want to do, huh?” Hardison asked after a minute. “You think I can do anything I want?”

Parker shrugged, looking away. “Maybe not _anything_. But you could do a lot.”

“Even run my own crew?”

Parker hesitated. “You could. I’m sure you could.”

“But?”

Parker bit her lip. “I don’t want you to end up like Nate.”

Hardison blinked, and stopped walking. Parker stopped too, but she didn’t meet Hardison’s eyes, and she couldn’t stand still.

Hardison nodded slowly. “Okay.”

That was that. They walked the rest of the way to Hardison’s place in silence.


	5. The Double-Blind Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing Pretzels moments from 3x05 The Double-Blind Job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were already a bunch of Pretzels moments in the ep (obviously) but I did the best I could to come up with some more. Hope you enjoy!

Okay. So maybe terrorist was a strong word.

But she had to say _something_ to warn Hardison. He had his arm around this woman, and they didn’t even _know_ her.

Since when does Hardison touch strangers?

(Parker knew, deep down, that it wasn’t fair to judge how much Hardison touched other people against how much he touched her, since she generally nonverbally asked him to keep his distance—but just because she asked for distance didn’t mean she _wanted_ it—and it certainly didn’t mean she liked it when he put his arm around Ashley).

Regardless, Parker didn’t trust Ashley. Not one bit.

That woman was eerily good at being sweet, at being _normal_ , at garnering Hardison’s attention. No woman could possibly be _that_ innocent and good.

She had to be a terrorist.

Or a spy, at the very least.

Parker wasn’t fooled.

 

                                                            ~o0o~                                                                                  

 

“For . . . pretzels.”

“Pretzels?” Hardison raised his eyebrow and pointed at the bowl of pretzels on the bar. “Okay. Well, they’re right here, when you want them.”

Parker stared down at the pretzels, her chest tightening. When she couldn’t take it anymore, the feeling in her chest, she glanced up at Hardison, and then—

She was outside McRory’s, jogging through the cold night air, only half aware she was doing it, only vaguely realizing she left her phone on the bar, but she wasn’t worried about it, Hardison would make sure it—

Dammit.

Hardison.

And _pretzels_.

Dammit!

Parker hurried through the city, keeping her head down, walking like she had a purpose, like she knew where she was going.

She didn’t.

She ended up in a more populated part of town, and her first impulse was to rob everyone blind—stealing made her happy, no one paid attention to her, no one knew she was there, she operated in an in-between space. No one looked at her like _that_ , no one looked at her at all, and she could take what she needed (or wanted) and she didn’t have to hang around and get to know her victims, didn’t have to listen to stories about their Nana, or watch them do a stupid victory dance after they beat a video game level, or learn about Star Trek just to try and understand—

_Dammit!_

She didn’t pickpocket anyone.

She didn’t go home, either.

Her hands were bleeding.

 

~o0o~

 

Hardison couldn’t stop smiling. He’d tried to hide his happiness until after Parker left. While he hadn’t necessarily wanted her to run out of the bar the way she did, he understood why she’d had to.

After she was gone, he cleaned up the broken beer bottle and grabbed her phone, sticking it in his pocket, planning to leave it upstairs, where it would be safe until she came back for it, grinning like a maniac the whole time.

He didn’t really want to go home, he was too amped up, he’d never sleep, he’d just pace around his apartment for hours, so after less than a second’s deliberation, he decided—what the heck—why not order himself another orange soda to celebrate and hang out at the bar a while longer?

He was about a fourth of the way into his drink when Eliot wandered into McRory’s.

“Hey, man,” Hardison nodded at Eliot, who joined him at the bar.

It took less than a second of scrutiny before Eliot picked up on Hardison’s mood. He gave an easy grin, clapping Hardison on the back. “You got her number?”

Hardison’s head shot up. “What?”

Eliot raised his eyebrows.

“Oh,” Hardison shook his head like he was clearing out cobwebs, “You mean Ashley.”

“Who else would I mean?” Eliot gave Hardison a weird look, and gestured for the bartender to bring him a beer.

“Uh, no one,” Hardison shrugged, “I just thought, you know—”

“So, you didn’t get her number?” Eliot interrupted, taking Hardison’s fumbling response to mean he hadn’t scored. “Gotta say, I’m surprised. She seemed to really like you.”

Hardison took a gulp of his soda. “No, actually, I did. But I don’t think I’m going to do anything with it.”

Eliot shook his head. “I don’t believe this, man. A pretty girl is _really_ into you—which, what, has gotta be the only time that’s happened, right?—and you aren’t gonna call her?”

Hardison grinned. “Actually, it’s not the only time. There’s a girl that—that I think may be coming around.”

Eliot shrugged. “Whatever, man.”

Hardison just took another sip to hide his smile.


	6. The Studio Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small Parker-centric Pretzels moment from 3x06 "The Studio Job"

The plane from Memphis to Boston was pretty small, with only two seats on either side of the center aisle. Eliot gruffly plunked himself in one of the aisle seat, and Parker was the only one brave or flexible enough to squeeze past him to get to the seat by the window.

Eliot didn’t look at anybody or anything during takeoff, probably thinking about Kaye Lynn and a life that could have been. Once they were up in the air, he pulled earbuds out of the recesses of his coat and stuffed them in his ear.

Parker waited exactly three minutes and forty-three seconds before she tapped on his shoulder.

He pulled out one of the earbuds, raising an eyebrow at her.

“What are you listening to?” Parker asked, turning in her seat to face him.

Eliot didn’t say anything, just held out the earbud to her. She took it from him and popped in in her ear, settling back against the seat, listening.

It took exactly thirty-seven more seconds before Parker looked over at him again.

“Why do you like country music?” she asked.

Eliot took a deep breath. “Music—all music—it should be about emotion.”

Parker’s eyebrows scrunched together, but she didn’t say anything.

“Country music, _good_ country music, can make you feel all kinds of things, and it-it can validate what you already feel, and-and—” Eliot struggled to find the words.

“Help you figure stuff out,” Parker provided quietly.

Eliot’s eyes narrowed, but only just a bit, so slightly that no one but Parker would’ve noticed. He didn’t say anything, but Parker looked away, and gave him back his earbud.

She spent the rest of the flight staring out the window, lost in the clouds and bright blue sky.

~o0o~

 

Two days later, Parker got an email from Eliot. There were no words, only about a dozen mp3 files attached. She listened to the songs one by one, confused at first, but slowly a pattern started to emerge.

They were all country songs.

Parker listened to them again.

And they all, well, they—

They made her think of Hardison.

She didn’t like it.

Except, maybe she did.

Damn Eliot for being so observant!

Parker didn’t say anything to him or anyone about it, but if there happened to be a certain song playing when Hardison showed up at Nate’s apartment the next day, well, she didn’t know a thing about it.


	7. The Gone-Fishin' Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing moments from 3x07 The Gone-Fishin' Job.

"We'll fix it. We can fix it. We'll fix it." Parker nodded, attempting to put the piñata’s head back on its body.

Hardison glared at Eliot's retreating form. Sophie looked sympathetic, but Nate seemed unconcerned, probably because of the ridiculously large stack of intact piñatas on his table. Sophie and Nate went their separate ways, leaving Parker and Hardison alone in the room. 

Parker had given up on trying to force the head back on, and was now just frowning at it.

"Will you fix it?" 

Hardison had been facing the other way, but he whipped around at those words. "What?"

Parker raised her eyebrows. "Will you fix it? Please?"

Hardison's eyes widened, and he searched for something, anything, that would free him from that responsibility. "Uh, I gotta—I gotta get to the bank with Eliot, and, uh, you know, so I don't really have time right now. . ."

Parker just looked at him. 

Hardison sighed. "Parker, I don't know how to fix piñatas. They're made to be broken, plus you've got a bunch more of them."

Parker bit her lip and turned away, nodding. Hardison felt his gut clench, but he shoved the feeling aside and left the room. 

What was he supposed to do? He didn't know a damn thing about piñatas. How was he supposed to put the head back on the thing? Damn Eliot for breaking it in the first place, that was completely uncalled for. 

Hardison stewed all the way to the bank. 

~o0o~

" _Don't worry about them. I had them taken care of_."

Parker froze.

"Parker, have you talked to Eliot or Hardison today?"

"No," Parker could barely get the word out. She hadn't been breathing, and she would’ve sworn her stomach was gone, not in the way it was when she jumped off buildings, but in a bad something-terrible-has-happened-way. It'd been a while since her stomach felt like that. "They could be out of range, o-or. . ."

"Or in a lot of trouble," Nate finished.

Parker didn't speak while Nate and Sophie figured out what to do. She couldn’t think about Whitman's words. Eliot and Hardison alone, maybe even—

She met Nate in an upper floor hallway.

"Okay, what do you got?"

"I've got a map, well part of a map, I don't know what it means. What if Eliot and Hardison have already—?"

Nate stopped her from finishing her thought, leading her into an empty office. "Okay, so Hardison and Eliot, they need us to stay calm, so show me what you've got and we'll figure out how to save them."

Parker's head shot up as static filled the earbuds.

"Guys!" Nate said loudly, putting his finger to his ear. "Eliot? Hardison? Can you hear me?"

"Wait, stop, stop, stop. Nate!"

Parker's stomach dropped again at the sound of Eliot's voice, but this time it _was_ in a good way, in a things-might-be-okay-after-all-and-I-never-want-to-feel-like-this-again kind of way. She ignored the fact that she hadn't heard Hardison speak. Surely Eliot would have said something if anything had happened to Hardison. She sat down at the desk and showed Nate everything she had on Whitman.

"Nate, hey, can you hear me?"

Parker jerked away from the computer. "Hardison? Are you okay?"

"Can't talk very loud," Eliot said, which was  _not_  an answer to her question. "These militia guys are following us, and they're armed and I'm pretty sure we pissed them off."

Nate asked if they could make it to the train tracks, and Hardison spoke again, asking if there'd be a train, and he  _sounded_  okay, nothing seemed really wrong about his voice, he was probably scared, and talking quietly because of the bad guys with guns, but his tone didn't sound super off, like it was masking pain or something, so that was probably good, right?

Nate answered that they were going to steal a train.

Parker smiled.

~o0o~

Parker was in the elevator, trying to trick it into thinking there was a fire when she heard Hardison say that they weren't on the train. She didn't say anything, just listened as Hardison and Eliot explained about cans of whup-ass, but she forced herself to not think about it, to just work the problem in front of her, the elevators. 

If they made it out of this, she might just have a CWA of her own. When someone steals you an escape, you take it. 

~o0o~

"You feelin' confident?" Eliot asked.

Hardison didn't look up. "Not really."

"Good. Over confidence will kill you faster than a bullet any day. Fear's good."

"Oh, I have fear," Hardison interjected. "And doubt. And really serious regrets, I should be fine."

Eliot nodded. "Alright, you're ready then." He pounded Hardison on the back, and left him alone with all those aforementioned regrets.

Why had he put off calling Nana for weeks? When was the last time he'd spoken to her? Three weeks ago? Four?

Why hadn't he bought himself the model Millennium Falcon he'd wanted? Who cares if Eliot made fun of him for it? That wasn't a reason not to buy something that made him happy.

Why hadn't he told Parker he'd fix her damn piñata? Now it was entirely possible that in the last face to face conversation they'd ever have, he'd been a jerk who'd disappointed her. How hard could it be to fix, anyway? Surely there was an instructional video about it out there somewhere. He should've at least offered to try, and now—

Now her last memory of him might be how he'd refused to even try to do something that would make her happy. 

Oh, yeah, he had serious regrets, all right. 

Nothing like impending doom to put things in perspective.

~o0o~

Parker strode across the bank parking lot. The FBI agents were escorting Whitman into their cop cars, and Nate, Eliot, and Hardison were standing next to the car. She approached fully intending to tear into them for not getting on the train, but she stopped, a few feet away, brought up short. 

She was just glad they were alive.

Before anyone could speak, Parker frowned, and then threw her arms around Eliot, releasing him just as quickly as she'd embraced him. He didn't say anything, just nodded once, and turned around to head back to his car. 

Hardison was looking at her, probably confused by the way she'd hugged Eliot. She looked at him a second longer, and then, very carefully wrapped her arms around his middle. She didn't hold onto him for very long, either, spinning on her heel to follow Eliot as soon as she let him go.

They never brought it up. But they both understood, and, a couple days later, Hardison figured out how to fix her piñata.


	8. The Boost Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing Moment from 3x08 The Boost Job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one this time, sorry guys, I've got finals and time kind of got away from me. I might add more to this chapter later, if I'm so inspired, but hopefully none of the others will be this short.

The drive to the docks was mostly quiet. Parker and Hardison each mentally reviewed the plan, as usual, though they were each thinking about a bit more than meeting the car thieves for the boost. For Parker, it was a certain young wannabe car jacker. For Hardison, well, it more about a certain _former_  car jacker and the story she'd told him on the way to Lefty's. 

"So. . ." Hardison broke the silence. "This Kelly kid. . ."

Parker didn't say anything, keeping her eyes on the road.

"You ever find out what happened to him?" Hardison asked carefully. He didn't want to spook her, didn't want to pry, but something in her voice, her eyes, when she'd mentioned Kelly had made him. . . uneasy.

Parker shrugged, still not looking at him. "Last I heard, he was locked up somewhere in Texas."

"Ah," Hardison nodded, "Finally got what he deserved, then."

"What do you mean?" Parker asked, changing lanes. 

"Uh, just that, what he did to you was sucky," Hardison swallowed, "And I'm glad karma caught up with him, you know?"

Parker shrugged again. "I don't blame him. He was just trying to survive. A few years later I would've done the same thing."

"Well, yeah, but that's because you had it done _to_ you so many times," Hardison argued, and then stopped himself, shaking his head. "Sorry. Never mind."

Parker's eyebrows scrunched together, and she finally glanced in his direction. "What's your point, Hardison?"

Hardison took a deep breath. "No one is going to leave you anymore. That's my point."

"Oh," Parker snorted, "I already knew that."

Hardison didn't have time to say anything else because they'd pulled up to the warehouse and Parker was hopping out of the car. 


	9. The Three-Card Monte Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing moments from 3x09 The Three-Card Monte Job

Parker sat cross-legged on Hardison's couch, rocking back and forth and tugging on her shoe. She was biting her lip and frowning, and it didn't take a Hardison-level genius to see that something was bugging her.

"You okay, girl?" Hardison asked, sitting down next to her.

Parker sighed and uncrossed her legs. "Yeah. I just—I don't like people in our place."

"Ah," Hardison nodded, picking his laptop up off his coffee table and putting it in his lap.

"McRory's is  _our_  place," Parker continued, "I don't like another crew being there. It makes me feel trapped—boxed in. I don't even hang out in the back room that much, but knowing that they're there—?" She blew out a breath, ruffling her bangs. "I don't like it."

"They'll be gone after the job tomorrow," Hardison reminded her.

"I know," Parker said, but she didn't sound convinced. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Hardison typing away at his computer, double checking things for the job, Parker somewhere in her own head. Neither of them minded, in fact, Parker preferred Hardison's attention at least appear like it was on something other than her, and Hardison thought that having Parker hanging around while he worked was a vast improvement on spending the time alone.

"You really don't have a problem going after Nate's dad?" Hardison asked after a while. 

Parker shrugged. "He's a bad guy. Just because he's Nate's father doesn't change that. A dad's only a dad if he acts like one."

"I know that," Hardison said quickly, sounding almost defensive. "I know that just as well as anyone—"

"I know you do."

"—Family doesn't have to be blood. I get it." Hardison put his laptop back on the coffee table. "But Nate still thinks of Jimmy Ford as his dad, still loves him."

"Yeah," Parker nodded slowly. "He does."

“So—It’s different. Than us, I mean.”

Parker didn’t say anything.

Hardison looked down at his computer. “Do you think Nate will be able to do it?”

“Would you?”

~o0o~

“So, uh, is Nate going to be nice now?” Parker asked, walking along the dock.

Hardison chuckled, “Don’t count on it.”

Parker considered, “I’m not sure I’d want him to be nice. Wouldn’t be Nate.”

Eliot, behind them, shook his head, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Hardison said, “It wouldn’t kill the guy to show a little appreciation every now and then.”

Parker raised her eyebrows and leaned a little closer to Hardison. “You saw his dad. Nate could be a lot worse.”

Nate was strolling with Sophie a few feet ahead of them. “You know I can hear you?” he called over his shoulder, not breaking stride.

“Yep,” Parker said cheerfully, skipping forward.

Hardison smiled, watching Parker head for the cars, blonde hair flying. That woman was something else.


	10. The Underground Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing Pretzels moments from 3x10 The Underground Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! Updates will be more sporadic for a while, I'm really sorry about that, but I'm trying my best.

"You did good today," Hardison said over his shoulder to Parker, who was still lying down in the back of Lucille.

"Hmm?" Parker sounded like she might have actually been asleep. "What?" She lifted her head just a bit.

Hardison immediately felt a little self-conscious. "I was just saying that—well, you did a good job grifting. Better than I could've."

"Oh." Parker smiled. "Thanks."

Hardison nodded, turning back to his computer.

"I'm not sure I like it."

"Like what?" Hardison didn't look up.

"Grifting."

"Oh."

"I mean," Parker huffed, sitting up. "It's fun at the end, and when I get to steal stuff. And the accents are fun. But the other stuff?" She shook her head, "It's hard."

"Yeah, I get it." Hardison tossed Parker's notebook away, glancing over at her. She lay back down on the floor of Lucille, but she was on her back this time, looking up at the roof. He hesitated, and then said, "Hey, you want me to leave?"

"What?"

Hardison rubbed the back of his neck. "If you wanna sleep, I can climb up front with Eliot for the drive."

"Oh," Parker propped herself up with her elbows. She forced a smile. "It's fine. You've got post-job cleanup to do."

Hardison grinned, looking down and then back up at her. "Right. Yeah. That's good—I'm glad that—You know what, never mind."

Parker waited a moment, and then lay back down, her back to Hardison. She could hear him tapping away at his computer. He was clearly doing his best to keep quiet, but now she couldn't sleep.

 

~o0o~

 

"Why the hell does he have to do everything right?" Parker demanded, pacing in front of Sophie's couch. She'd been so frustrated after the exchange with Hardison in Lucille that she'd come to get advice from the grifter straight away.

"I'm sorry, Parker, can you start over? I'm failing to see the problem here," Sophie, sitting on the couch, uncrossed her legs and leaned forward.

"He just—Urgh!—He just—He gets it, and he's not supposed to!"

Sophie's eyes narrowed just a bit and then she leaned back again, holding back a smile. "Is this about the pretzels?"

Parker cursed the day she'd told Sophie about the pretzels conversation, even though at the time the grifter had given her the impression that she already knew all about it. She sighed, still moving restlessly around the room. "Yes, it's about the pretzels. Kind of."

"I thought it was a good thing that he knew what you meant?" Sophie chuckled a little, "That means you're one step closer to. . . whatever it is you want, right? It certainly means he's a good match, though the years of him obviously pining already proved that much."

Parker ignored the remark about pining, and whirled on Sophie, crazy-eyed, finally stopping her pacing in front of the older woman. "No! He wasn't _supposed_ to understand. If he didn't understand that meant he didn't get it and that meant—I certainly wouldn't be here, now, with these stupid feelings if he'd just—"

"Parker, Parker, calm down," Sophie took a risk and reached out to grab Parker's hand, pulling her gently onto the couch next to her. "I get it, okay, Hardison's doing all the right things, and that's scary, because you're looking for a reason to give up, a reason not to like him."

Parker looked up, meeting Sophie's eyes. She didn't speak, didn't try to deny anything, but she was clearly annoyed at being picked apart, even if she set herself up for it in the first place.

Sophie took a deep breath, pausing to make sure Parker was really listening to her. "I don't think that Hardison is going to give you a reason to hate him. I really don't. And, think about it, do you want to hate Hardison?"

Parker huffed, looking away again. "No."

Sophie smiled. "See? It'll be okay. Honestly, that boy will wait as long as you need, now that he knows about, well, about pretzels."

"That's the problem," Parker muttered, but Sophie ignored her.

"I still don't see what today had to do with any of this," Sophie said, crossing her legs and settling deeper into the couch. "You fell asleep in Lucille? So what?"

Parker made a begrudging face. "I don't sleep near people. Not unless—"

"Not unless you trust them," Sophie interrupted, getting much too excited for Parker's taste. "And you trust Hardison! Aww, Parker, that's so sweet—"

"It's not sweet," Parker insisted. "He wasn't supposed to know what it meant, but he did, and he offered to leave to I could sleep alone, and then I said he didn't have to, and he knew what that meant too. And he got all happy, and he smiled like _that_ but he didn't want me to see, and it was just—"

"So romantic!" Sophie was beaming now.

Parker snorted. "I guess. I don't know what I'm going to do."


End file.
